Playing Footsie

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Friday. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where your most violent fantasies become sins of the flesh, right here, where the hardboiled action is non-stop, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 35 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, we arrive at another cliffhanger. Private eye Carrie Love and her new flame Jenny Lane regroup after Carrie's narrow escape from the law, but suddenly get shot at by a lone gunman. They make their escape, and then decide to confront the widow Gay Flender, who's now their number one murder suspect ...


EXT. JENNY’S APARTMENT BUILDING - CANAL - NIGHT
The moon glimmers on the inky black waterway
like thick brush strokes.

Five WHITE GEESE float by,
single file.

Jenny and Carrie sit on an old sofa
under a tree. Watching.

JENNY
The guy in that five-million dollar home
on the other side bought them for his wife.
(beat)
Only the kids pay any attention to them.

CARRIE
Did you feel his pulse?

JENNY
No, I freaked out.
I just split.
Then I called you.

CARRIE
He’s probably okay.
We could go to my place,
check the police scanner --
(realizes)
Shit.

Carrie closes her eyes.
Quietly shaking.

JENNY
(takes Carrie’s hand)
Stay here tonight.

CARRIE
I can’t drag you into this.

JENNY
I’m ALREADY into this.

CARRIE
(opens her eyes)
I guess you are.

JENNY
(sits up)
Come on, let’s go in.
I’m getting cold.

CARRIE
(pulls her back down)
Can you just --
hold me a sec?

They embrace.

Three soft GUNSHOTS RIP
through the sofa
just above Jenny’s head --
THWIP. THWIP. THWIP.

JENNY
(jerks up)
What was that?

CARRIE
(pulls her down)
Someone’s shooting
a B-B gun at us.
Stay down. Don’t move --

Carrie GRABS the top of the couch.
Then Jenny. Does a roll.

Pulls the sofa down over them.
They crouch low. Listen.

More shots THWIP, THWIP, THWIP
into the cushions.

CARRIE
How very Columbine.

JENNY
Who are they shooting at?
You or me?

CARRIE
I don’t know.
But we have to get
the fuck out of here.
My car is across the street.
Which car is yours?

JENNY
The gold BMW,
two spaces down.

CARRIE
You have a beemer --

JENNY
Don’t get excited. It’s a ‘72.
That bucket of bolts cost me more
in repairs than what I paid for it.

CARRIE
But it’s -- working, right?

EXT. CANAL - AT THAT MOMENT
Across the canal,
a FIGURE IN BLACK crouches down.

Rifle poking through the wooden fence
along the footpath.

THE COUCH
is lifted, tilted,
tipped up on end.

THE GUNMAN
squeezes off a series of SHOTS --
THWIP. THWIP. THWIP. THWIP.

EXT. JENNY’S APARTMENT BUILDING - GARAGE - CONTINUOUS
Jenny’s vintage gold BMW PEELS RUBBER, and flies away.

INT. JENNY’S BEEMER - MOVING - NIGHT
Carrie drives like a demon.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Enough crying in my cocktail.
Fucking around playing footsie.
I still had my work.
Still had this case.
And it was time to get
my shit together
and do what I do best --
crack this sucker wide open.

She FIRES UP a smoke, and --

JENNY
Careful, there’s a --

PUNCHES the gas.

JENNY
Stop sign.
(grips the door)
Where are we going?

CARRIE
To Gay Flender’s joint.

JENNY
But didn’t you say
you suspect her of --

CARRIE
I did. I do.

JENNY
And that she set you up?
Won’t she be --

CARRIE
Not if she’s distracted.

The girls exchange looks.
Carrie, excited. Jenny, scared.

JENNY
Oh, no you’re not.
I’m not gonna --

CARRIE
Yes, you are.
All you have to do is
talk to her about
how Modi hit you,
and that you’re
thinking of suing,
but if you could
get your job back --

PUSH IN ON Jenny.
Eyes darting. Pensive.

JENNY
I could -- do that.

Cock-Blocked By A Skirt

Happy Thursday, crime slicksters. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 34 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, born-again wannabe TV movie producer Ken Rice tries to pitch his 'gay incest' story to widow Gay Flender, with disastrous results. Meanwhile, homicide dicks Bernie Keko and Aya Meir visit the Horse's Head dive bar, moments after 'private eye on the lam' Carrie Love has made her escape ...


INT. YAVO/FLENDER FILMS - CONFERENCE ROOM - DUSK
Gay sits at the head of the giant table.
POSTERS of her husband’s movies dot the walls.

Disaster flicks. Cheesy biopics.
Heartwarming holiday stories.
Chick flicks, lite.

Across from her sits
Ken Rice and David Nance.
Smiles all around.

Gay sips from a bottle of water.
Nods, listening.

KEN
-- a spiritual awakening,
so he goes to confession
and renounces his sins.
(beat)
And then, over the closing credits,
we see him go up
the front steps of his house --
and ring the bell.
(dramatic flourish)
And we fade to black.

GAY
I like it.
I like it ALOT.

DAVID
You do? I mean --
great, that’s great.

KEN
(to David)
What did I tell you?
I knew she’d get it.

GAY
It’s bold. Daring. Edgy.
(off their smiles)
But we gotta change
the young guy to a girl.
And she can’t be his daughter.

KEN
Excuse me?

DAVID
(Soto voce)
I told you --

GAY
The gay incest thing?
No network is gonna buy it,
Ken. Hel-lo-o.
Get a grip on yourself.
We make safe, bland pabulum
for basic cable.
What do you think this is, HBO?

DAVID
Certainly not.

KEN
This is my passion project.
Dedicated to the memory of my POPPA.
(strangely)
He was VERY SPECIAL to me --
(POUNDS the table)
And I’m NOT changing a THING.

GAY
(stands)
Then I suggest you go
peddle your passion
somewhere where they give a fuck.

A soft KNOCK-KNOCK on the door.

GAY
Who the fuck IS IT?

Fleming sticks his head in.
Tentative.

FLEMING
Hub Flower is on three.
Says it’s urgent.

GAY
Poor baby’s probably having a hard time
finding a crack whore at the Four Seasons.

EXT. THE HORSE HEAD - DUSK
Carrie walks out the front door.
Lights a smoke.

CARRIE (V.O.)
I was cock-blocked by a skirt.
First time for everything.
It was just as well --

I mean,
I was just going through the motions.
Sex with a stripper is like
having desert for dinner.
Tastes great, less filling --
but you’re hungry again
a couple hours later.
And besides, I have a
damsel in distress to attend to.
(beat)
And right now,
she’s about all I have left.

BERNIE (O.C.)
It’s right down here.
A real dive,
one of her favorite places --

CARRIE
(hears him)
Shit.

She pulls down her hat.
Walks quickly in the opposite direction.
DUCKS into a TATTOO PARLOR.

BERNIE AND AYA
appear in front of the bar.

AYA
Disgusting.
I can smell it from out here.

BERNIE
(fondly)
I know --

INT. TATTOO PARLOR - AT THAT MOMENT
Carrie walks up to the counter.

Behind it, a HUGE, TATTOOED BRUTE
looks her up and down.
Wipes his mouth. Leers.

TATTOOED BRUTE
Hey, mamma -- how bout a little ink?

Carrie pulls out her GUN.
Waves it in his face.

CARRIE
I’m lookin’ for the back entrance, DOG.

TATTOOED BRUTE
You sure? I gotta fresh needle --

She marches past him
toward a curtained-off doorway.

INT. THE HORSE HEAD - AT THAT MOMENT
Bernie and Aya approach the bar.
Case the joint. Take seats.

Scary bartender ambles over.
Clocks them immediately.

SCARY BARTENDER
What can I do for you, officers?

BERNIE
(pulls out a photograph)
Have you seen this woman?

SCARY BARTENDER
(looks at it)
Can’t say I have.

AYA
You sure?

SCARY BARTENDER
I’d sure as hell remember HER.

Bernie frowns.
Puts the picture down.
Checks his watch.

BERNIE
Hey. It’s six. I’m starving.

AYA
It’s that late already?

BERNIE
(to Scary)
You still have those -- horse burgers?

AYA
HORSE burgers?

SCARY BARTENDER
(wistful)
We usedta. Gotta new owner.
Now just have beef.

BERNIE
I’ll take a bacon cheeseburger,
bloody-rare, with the works.
(to Aya)
You -- hungry?

AYA
Starving.
(to Scary)
Can I get a veggie burger?

SCARY BARTENDER
Sorry. No veggie.

AYA
I’ll just have some fries, thanks.

Scary nods.
Goes off to fix the grub.

CURVY (O.C.)
Hey. I saw this girl.
She was just in here.

CURVY stands next to Bernie.
Picks up the photo. Squints.

CURVY (CONT’D)
Her hair is different,
got this dykey Jodie Foster thing,
but that’s her.

BERNIE
Holy shit. How long ago was she here?

CURVY
She just left.

AYA
Which way did she go?

CURVY
Hell if I know --

They LEAP off their stools.
RACE for the door.

SCARY
appears from the back with the food.

SCARY BARTENDER
Hey. Where ya goin’?

Smooth As Silk

Hey there, crime kids. Happy fucking Hump Day. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where your most violent fantasies become sins of the flesh, right here, where the hardboiled action is non-stop, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 33 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, on the lam from the law, private eye Carrie Love hides out at her favorite Venice Beach dive bar and hooks up with a wayward stripper, but when she gets a call from Jenny Lane, who needs her help, the spell is broken ...


INT. THE HORSE HEAD - DUSK
Unbelievably dank and dark.
Broken ceiling fan.

Scary-looking BARTENDER watches a ball game
on a shitty little black-and-white.

Two DRUNK LOCALS sit nearby
nursing their beers.

The jukebox spills out the scuzzy guitar shards
of Urge Overkill’s SISTER HAVANA.

An off-duty CURVY STRIPPER drinks and twists,
oblivious. Celebrating some private party.

Carrie slides onto a bar stool.
Eyes Curvy’s moves.

CARRIE
(to herself)
I’m in a Roger Corman movie --

The BARTENDER leans over.
Glares. Barely whispers.

SCARY BARTENDER
What’ll it be?

CARRIE
Heinekin, double shot of bourbon.
Kessler’s, if you got it --

SCARY BARTENDER
(nods, grim)
Kessler’s. 'Smooth as silk.'

He turns to get her order.

HISPANIC MALE VOICE (O.C.)
How ya doin,’ mommy?
Haven’t seen you in here before --

Carrie looks left.
Then down, at --

A GUY IN A WHEELCHAIR
near her stool.

The wannabe lothario grins, wolfish.
Takes a slurp of beer. Looks up.
Beady eyes leering.

CARRIE
Sorry, Mack.
I don’t do the ‘Coming Home’ thing.
But slide me your digits,
and I’ll give ‘em to Jane Fonda.

Scary returns with the drinks.
Sees Wheelie-Boy.

SCARY BARTENDER
Leave the babe alone,
Rodriguez, okay?

Carrie SLAPS down a ten-spot.
Slides off her stool.

CARRIE
Watch my change, will ya?
(to Rodriguez)
What do you call someone
who’s HIV-positive in a wheelchair?
Roll-AIDS.

She turns, walks toward Curvy.
Scary ROARS with laughter.

Downs her shot.
Sips her beer.
Moves to the music.

Curvy senses Carrie’s presence.
Turns. Stares.

Likes what she sees.
Starts dancing for her.

CARRIE
Where’s a pole
when you need one?

CURVY
Can I get a hit offa that?

Carrie hands her the beer.
Curvy takes a long,
luxurious swallow.
Holds the bottle
against her forehead.

CURVY
Thanks. I needed that.

CARRIE
Makes two of us.

Curvy smiles.
The deal is closed.
Carrie’s cell phone RINGS.

CARRIE
Hold that thought.
(answers it, listens)
Jenny.

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

EXT. JENNY’S APARTMENT - BALCONY - DUSK
Jenny leans on the railing
with a stiff cocktail.
Looks at the canal.

She turns toward us.
We see she has a black eye.

JENNY
(into the phone)
How are you? You -- okay?

CARRIE
Yeah. Hold on a sec.
(covers the phone, to Curvy)
Be back in a sec.
Business call.
Why don’t you go
warm up a bar stool for me?

Curvy smiles.
Trots off to the bar.
Carrie sits at a table.

CARRIE
I’m back.

JENNY
(jittery)
That’s just -- just great.

CARRIE
What’s going on?
You sound -- strange.

JENNY
Modi and I got into
a big fight and he fired me,
I went to his place after work
to try and get my job back,
we argued some more,
he hit me, and I pushed him,
and he, he --
(beat)
Fell.
He hit his head.
He’s, unconscious.

CARRIE
No way.

JENNY
C-can you come over?

CARRIE
(looks off camera at Curvy)
Shit.
(sighs)
Be right there.
(clicks the phone shut)
Damn. Stripper-interruptus --

A Hell Of A Woman

Happy Tuesday, crime slicksters. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 32 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, homicide detectives Bernie Keko and Aya Meir search for private eye Carrie Love, now a murder suspect, in Venice Beach. Meanwhile, Carrie slips into her favorite dive bar to hide ...


INT./EXT. UNMARKED CAR - MOVING
The car cruises Speedway.
A narrow street just behind the Venice Boardwalk.
It passes BUMS, young HIPSTERS. SURFERS.

Bernie’s behind the wheel.
Aya sips a designer coffee.

BERNIE
-- and the bartender
looks at the guy and says,
‘Hey. I was talking to the duck.’

Bernie ROARS with laughter.
Aya does a slow burn.

BERNIE
C’mon, that’s funny.

AYA
You fucking sneak.
I was driving.

BERNIE
Payback for stopping at Star-FUCKS.
How can you drink that shit?
It looks like a milk shake, not a COFFEE.

Bernie’s cell phone RINGS.
He pulls it out. Listens.

BERNIE
Keko here --
(beat)
Holy shit.

AYA
What?

BERNIE
(to Aya)
Martune’s dead --
(listens)
We’ll be right there, chief --
(hangs up, to Aya)
Step on it, baby.
We’ve got another body.

AYA
(does a ‘take’)
You called me -- baby.

PUSH IN ON Bernie’s face.
In pain. Confused.

BERNIE
Don’t get used to it.

INT. VENICE MOTOR COURT HOTEL - ELEVATOR - AT THAT MOMENT
Carrie rides down.
Pulls out her Glock.
Checks the chamber.

EXT. VENICE MOTOR COURT HOTEL - AT THAT MOMENT
Bernie and Aya’s car pulls into
the front entrance. Parks.

IN THE LOBBY
the elevator doors open.
Carrie walks out. Then hears --

BERNIE (O.C.)
-- homicide detective Keko,
and this is detective Meir.
We’d like to see the register.

Carrie freezes in her tracks --

CARRIE
Shit.

Turns, and walks toward the garage exit.
Goes through a door.

AT THE FRONT DESK
Bernie and Aya look through the book.

BERNIE
Than Dong Ng, Werner and Hilda Schmidt,
Lucia Greco -- fucking United Nations.

The officious PIMPLY YOUNG CLERK (22)
nods stiffly.

PIMPLY YOUNG CLERK
Well, Venice Beach IS
a major vacation destination.

AYA
Do you have a photocopier?

PIMPLY YOUNG CLERK
Sorry. There’s a Kinko’s
about a mile away, on Lincoln.

BERNIE
Fuck that --
(to Aya)
You stay here, write down all the names
going back the last twenty-four hours.
I’m gonna go scope out the parking garage.

AYA
Gee, thanks, officer.
You go prowl why I stay here
and do the secretarial work?
I think NOT.
(shoves the book at him)
YOU write down the names
while I go check out the garage --
(off his stare)
If she happens to be down there,
she WON’T recognize ME, GET it?

The clerk watches. Amused.

BERNIE
That’s -- a good idea.
(to the clerk)
What the fuck are you looking at?

EXT. VENICE BOARDWALK - THE HORSE HEAD - AT THAT MOMENT
Classic dive bar. A couple of OLD DRUNKS smoke butts in front.
Shivering in the brisk air of the beach at dusk.

An OLD HOMELESS HIPPIE (60)
in a top hat shuffles by.

Holding up his pants at the crotch.
Weaves slightly.

Carrie walks toward the bar.
Stops. Peers inside.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Some shamus I turned out to be.
On the lam, holed up like grifter
out of a Jim Thompson fever dream.
'A Hell of a Woman,' my ass.
I wasn’t on the case,
the case was on me.
I wasn’t following leads,
they were following me.
Suspects? I was the fucking suspect.
And now I was on a tear, a bender,
a non-stop trip to hell.
Cause when the going gets tough, the tough --
(beat)
Go to happy hour.

Paradise City

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Monday. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where your most violent fantasies become sins of the flesh, right here, where the hardboiled action is non-stop, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 31 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, private eye Carrie Love, disguised as a nurse, goes to visit Paul Martune in the hospital to get him to confess to burning down her home ...


INT. SANTA MONICA HOSPITAL - CORRIDOR - NIGHT
A bustling hallway right out of ER.
DOCTORS, NURSES, TECHS weave in and out
like ants marching up the hill.

A DOOR opens to a room marked NURSE’S LOUNGE.
A tall, thin NURSE strides briskly into the throng.
Starched white hat atop chunky blonde locks.
She stops. Turns. Looks.

It’s CARRIE.
Looks at the door numbers.
Searching. Aha.

A DOOR
reads ‘134.’
A female hand pushes it open,
and we go into --

INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Dark with the lights out. Drapes pulled.
Quiet, except for the machines chirping.
Lights blinking.

A hulking FIGURE lies on the bed.
Tubes and wires inserted.

Large wooden FRAME is affixed to its head
with a series of bolts, like scaffolding.
Like it’s under construction.

It’s MARTUNE. Being rebuilt.
Like beachfront property.

Carrie tip-toes up to the bed.
Turns on the light.

Martune doesn’t react.
Sleeping the dreams of morphine bliss.

CARRIE
Wakey, wakey, RISE AND SHINE.
It’s time for your SPONGE BATH.

Martune’s eyelids flicker.

CARRIE
And then maybe take a little BLOOD.

His eyes slowly open.
Try to focus.

CARRIE
Take your RECTAL TEMPERATURE.
With a FUCKING KNIFE.

Martune tries to speak,
but he’s drugged to the gills.

His voice comes out sideways,
like a ventriloquist.

MARTUNE
Cahrrie -- Lohv --

CARRIE
That’s right, buster -- it’s me.
Here to wake you from the dead.
Cause we’re gonna have a little party.
Play ourselves a little game --
‘confession junction.’

She pulls a small dictating recorder
from her pocket.

CARRIE
(into it)
Testing, testing -- one, two, three.
Is this thing on? Golly gee, officer,
I was only going ninety.

Carrie pulls out her GLOCK.
Aims it Martune’s head.

CARRIE
Don’t worry.
This is just for insurance.
I’d rather just turn off your life support.
More dramatic. And less messy.

MARTUNE
Yoo -- funkin’ -- bih.

She places the dictaphone
on the pillow beside his head.

CARRIE
All I want is your confession,
and then I’ll leave you alone.
(beat)
Maybe.

With great effort, gaining strength,
Martune grimaces.

MARTUNE
You stole -- ma girfren.’

CARRIE
Well, that’s the problem
with a menage et trois, big guy.
It’s rarely an even three-way.
Two of them really get into each other,
and leave out the third.
Nine out of ten times,
it’s the two women, leaving Mr.
‘I Just Wanna Watch’ out in the cold.
And in your case, poor little baby
was sick of your smug shit
and jumped on the first
life preserver she could find.
(beat)
Me.

Carrie pulls out his IV tube.
Martune winces in pain.

Reaches for the call box
on the bedside table.

MARTUNE
I’m gonna -- call -- security.

Carrie GRABS the box.
Places it out of his reach.

CARRIE
Enough. Pipe down. Sit still.

She raises the gun.
Places it against Martune’s temple.

CARRIE
You’re gonna spill it. NOW.
(CLICKS on the recorder)
Talk to me, Jesus.
Tell me about the fire.

MARTUNE
Shit, no -- don’t shoot, don’t shoot.

CARRIE
All of a sudden you can talk?

MARTUNE
(looks at the missing IV tube)
Morphine -- I need -- morphine.

CARRIE
Give me your statement. NOW.
Then you can take
a trip to paradise city.
Where the grass is green
and the girls are pretty.
Carrie CLICKS the hammer.

MARTUNE
Okay, okay. DON’T SHOOT.
(exhales)
I started it, okay?
I burned down your house
because you stole my girlfriend.
I LOVED that girl, and you --
took her AWAY from me.

CARRIE
Aw, isn’t that touching.

She PISTOL-WHIPS him, CRACK.

CARRIE
So you torch my DREAM HOME.
(seething)
Last question, asshole.
You killed Slobotnik, didn’t you?

Martune blink-blinks. Frightened.

CARRIE
(raises the gun)
You want more of this? ANSWER ME.

MARTUNE
Okay, alright. I shot -- Kip.

CARRIE
Why?

MARTUNE
He -- made a pass at me.
Said he was -- in love with me.
I -- snapped.

Carrie smiles.
SNAPS off the recorder. Stands.

CARRIE
Well, I guess that wraps it up.

MARTUNE
Please, morphine -- I’m in pain.

Carrie looks around.
Sees a small washcloth on the bed post.

She balls it up.
SHOVES it in his mouth.

Leans over.
Re-inserts the IV tube
into Martune’s arm.

His eyes cry out with immediate relief.

CARRIE
See? I’m not a totally bad person.
(beat)
I may not be a health care professional,
but I play one on TV.

One of the monitors starts BEEP-BEEP-BEEPING.
Oscilloscope patterns dance madly on the screen.

CARRIE
Shit.

She presses the call button.
Then hurries out of the room.

IN THE CORRIDOR
Carrie looks at her clipboard.
Starts moving. Blends into the crowd.

A MALE VOICE
rises above the din on the PA.

URGENT MALE VOICE (O.C.)
CODE BLUE, CODE BLUE, room 134,
cardiac arrest!
Move it, move it, STAT.

PUSH IN ON a VIDEO CAMERA on the wall.
Red light BLINKING.

Sins Of The Flesh

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Friday. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where your most violent fantasies become sins of the flesh, right here, where the hardboiled action is non-stop, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 30 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, 'torture porn' director Phillie Pfugg and his bodybuilder squeeze Chinette have a disastrous romantic rendevous. Meanwhile, private eye Carrie Love calls widowed siren Gay Flender and gives her a piece of her mind ...


EXT. ADULT MOTEL - DAY
A sleazy, greasy stuccoed motor court.
Sign reads THE MATADOR. ADULT MOTEL.

Phillie’s Hummer parked by the ice machine.
A METH COUPLE walk into the grimy office.

INT. ADULT MOTEL ROOM - AT THAT MOMENT
On a tiny boom box, the glam-trash of
My Life With the Thrill Kill Kult’s
DIRTY LITTLE SECRETS over --

Phillie, head-to-toe in black vinyl.
Zorro mask. A long, red satin cape.
He pours a glass of pink champagne for --

Chinette, decked out in some
outre white silk bodybuilding outfit.

Lacy bridal veil.
Teetering on six-inch platforms.

As close to 'girlish' as this bruiser can get.
She raises her glass to his. They CLINK.

CHINETTE
(takes a sip)
This is like our honeymoon.

PHILLIE
(sips his)
Nothing is too good for my little flower.

He THROWS his glass into the fake fireplace -- CRASH.

PHILLIE
Are you ready to be ravaged by The Dark Lord?
(grabs her)
To be taken to new heights of sexual pleasure?
Surrender yourself to unspeakable sins of the flesh?

CHINETTE
Phillie -- I mean -- Dark Lord --
(mock-scared)
What are you going to -- do to me?

He goes to the ‘magic fingers.’
Puts in some change.

The bed starts VIBRATING.
He goes to her. Takes her hand.

PHILLIE
Madame, come with me
to the garden of unearthly delights.

Phillie lays her down.
Chinette smiles, coquettish.

CHINETTE
Promise me you’ll be -- rough?

FROM BEHIND
Phillie removes his boxers.
Raises the cape, like wings.

CHINETTE
(whispers)
It looks kind of -- lumpy.

PHILLIE
Even with the condom on?

CHINETTE
(reaches up, gently touches it)
Does that feel okay?

He lowers the cape --

PHILLIE
God, yes.

Lays down on top of her --

PHILLIE
Mommy --

And starts thrusting.
Slowly. Carefully.

CHINETTE
(moaning)
Who’s your -- Mommy now?

PHILLIE
Ow!

He stops. Rolls off her.
Dejected. Tears in his eyes.

PHILLIE
It HURTS.

Chinette takes him in her arms.
Sooths, comforts him.

CHINETTE
There, there -- it’ll be okay.

PHILLIE
No, it WON’T.
That fucking doctor FUCKED IT UP.

CHINETTE
Well, then go back and make him fix it.

PHILLIE
But that takes money --
and I need what we have to fix the studio,
so I can finish cutting Head Shot.

CHINETTE
Then you’ll just have find the money.

PUSH IN ON Phillie’s face.
A light bulb pops.

PHILLIE
Wait a minute. I just got an idea --

EXT. VENICE BEACH - SHORELINE - DUSK
Carrie sits on the rocks watching the waves.
The surfers doing their thing.

She drinks from a new bottle.
Winces. Pulls out her cell phone.
Dials. Listens --

CARRIE
Gay?
(listens)
Yeah, it’s me.
Your pigeon. Your frame.
Tell me why you did it.
I want some answers, NOW.

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

INT. YAVO/FLENDER FILMS - OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
Gay paces the floor.
Smoking a cigarette. A Cheshire cat.

GAY
Answers? To what?
I hired YOU to get ME some answers --

CARRIE
Don’t play dumb with me,
you vacant, airbrushed strumpet.
I’ve been framed for your husband’s murder,
and I’ve got a funny feeling
you had something to do with it.

The door opens. Modi slides in.
Sees Gay’s on the phone.

Gay raises a finger, ‘shushes’ him.
Presses ‘speakerphone.’
Softly places the receiver in its cradle.

GAY
You mean to tell me you think
I hired you to find my husband’s killer,
and then I FRAMED you?
That doesn’t make sense.

CARRIE
Yeah. Kinda like one of your
late husband’s fucking piece-of-shit movies.
A bad rip-off of THE POSTMAN ALWAYS RINGS TWICE.
Oh, wait -- that’s quality source material.
This reeks of Jackie Collins.
Maybe Danielle Steele.

A loud BURP.

Modi shoots Gay a look.
Gay shakes her head.

GAY
Kinda early in the morning
for cocktails, detective.
And I don’t like your attitude.
Consider yourself fired.
Go find yourself a gutter
to roll around in.

CARRIE
Not so fast, bitch.
We’re going to ‘take a meeting.’

GAY
I’m sorry, but my schedule’s pretty full.
Booked solid the rest of the month.

CARRIE
Not at your office, dummy.
You think I’m gonna walk into a trap?
Somewhere neutral. I’ll let you know where.
And when. And watch your back.
One way or another,
I’m gonna getcha-getcha-getcha.

She hangs up. CLICK.
Drains the bottle.
Wipes her mouth.

FLINGS it into the sea.
Slowly, carefully stands up.

CARRIE (V.O.)
But first, let’s pay a
little visit to the hospital.
Visiting hours are almost over,
and I need to go pay my disrespects --

Irony Be Thy Name

Happy Thursday, crime slicksters. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 29 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, after finishing her 'going on the lam' disguise, private eye Carrie Love visits 'her own private ground zero,' the burned ruins of her former home ...


INT. SHITTY MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
Carrie stands in front of the bathroom mirror.
A towel around her shoulders.
Her hair is now bleached-blonde white.

CARRIE
Brigitte Nielson,
eat your heart out.

She grabs a pair of hair clippers.
Holds it to her head.

CARRIE
Time to get all
Britney Spears on their asses.

And starts CHOPPING OFF
her long, beautiful hair.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Maybe I sleep around.
But that doesn’t make me a bad person.
Sue me. I was drawn that way.
I didn’t fucking KILL anyone.
Okay, maybe I like a
cocktail now and then,
but I’m not a fucking MURDERER.
And okay, so I like to
bend the rules a little.
But that’s no reason to FRAME me.
(beat)
So fuck all of you.
You don’t want me around, FINE.
I’ll buy myself a one-way ticket to Splitsville.
Do the disappearing tango on your asses.
I’ll go to Frisco, do a Dashiel Hammett.
Find a Continental Opp-ortunity.

She’s done.
Hair in blocky, spiky chunks.

She slides on shades.
Sneers at her reflection.

CARRIE (V.O.)
But first, it’s time for the eulogy.

EXT./INT. LA BREA AVENUE - PHILLIE’S HUMMER - AT THAT MOMENT
Phillie drives.
Peers over at Chinette,
staring out the side window.
Pensive. Dabs her eyes with a tissue.

CHINETTE
'Big surprise?'
I’m not sure I’m in the mood
for a -- big surprise.

PHILLIE
Nonsense. Nothing is too good
for my little whippoorwill.
(sees something)
We just have to make one quick stop.

THE MOTEL STARLET
comes into view. A real dive.
Irony be thy name.

THE HUMMER
pulls into the parking lot. Stops.

PHILLIE
turns to Chinette.

PHILLIE
Now wait right here.
I’ll be back in
two shakes of a lamb’s tail --

CHINETTE
Okay.

He kisses her. Gets out.
POPS open the rear door.

Grabs a long, rolled carpet
wrapped with duct tape. Bloodstained.

Hefts it onto his shoulder.
Looks up at the sign.

PHILLIE
'The Motel Starlet.'
You can’t make this shit up.

Phillie looks around.
Coast is clear.

He carries the body around
the back of the building.
TOSSES it in a dumpster.

PHILLIE
And that’s a 'wrap' --

EXT. VACANT LOT - RUINS - MOMENTS LATER
Carrie stands in the driveway
behind what once was her home.

We can’t see her eyes behind the shades.
But we know they’re bleeding, black with pain.

She gingerly walks through the rubble.

CARRIE (V.O.)
I don’t know what compelled me
to visit my own, private ground zero.
I was inexplicably drawn to
what would rip me apart.
Like a gambler to the table,
a junkie to the needle --
(beat)
This was my first real home on my own.
After I split with Bernie,
I combed the beach until I found
that hundred-year-old bungalow
on one of the prettiest walkway streets.
Then I painstakingly decorated it from top to bottom.
Filled it with what gave me pleasure.
I discovered a creativity I didn’t know I had.
It was my palace, a den of color, joy --

Carrie bends over.
Picks up a burned, ruined Barbie.

CARRIE (V.O.)
People asked me how the Barbie thing got started.
(she tosses it, keeps walking)
When I first moved here from New York,
I knew exactly two people in town.
And they both lived forty-five minutes away.
I soon learned that everyone
lived forty-five minutes away.
(beat)
So I was in the supermarket
my first night here buying a few necessities,
feeling a little alone,
and they had these Barbies
on sale there at the register.
What you call an ‘impulse purchase.’
I thought, ten bucks each,
what the fuck, so I got two.
The checkout clerk said,
‘that’s sweet, you have kids?’
When I shook my head no,
she looked at me like I was
some kind of pervert --
and I knew I had found my calling.
That night I set them up in my kitchen
and on my bar, and never looked back.
(beat)
Of course it wasn’t until a year later
when my porn star girlfriend tied one up,
stuck a ball gag in her mouth,
and named her ‘Bondage Barbie.’
(beat)
That was when things
REALLY started getting interesting --

One Dangerous Lady

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Hump Day. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where your most violent fantasies become sins of the flesh, right here, where the hardboiled action is non-stop, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 28 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, private eye Carrie Love, now framed for murder, goes on the lam. Meanwhile, the story hits the news. Carrie is now a 'marked woman' ...


INT./EXT. CARRIE’S RENTAL CAR - MOVING - DAY
Sara Vaughn’s swingin’ cover of PETER GUNN over --

Carrie drives a vintage Dodge Dart Swinger.
Nondescript in shades and baseball cap
that advertises some cheap booze.

She takes a long pull from a pint bottle.

CARRIE (V.O.)
It was the first time
I played Grand Theft Auto.
The trick is to swipe an
old beater that no one
will report stolen.
Thank god I’ve got enough scratch
to hide out for a while.
At least until I can clean up this mess.
(beat)
I could drain my savings account,
go down to Mexico like a
grifter in some Ross MacDonald story.
Get a shitty motel room by the beach,
write that tragic, drunken confessional
that’s been oozing outta my pores.

She thinks. Takes a slug.
Picks up her cell. Dials. Listens --

CARRIE
Jenny?

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

INT. YAVO/FLENDER FILMS - RECEPTION - AT THAT MOMENT
Jenny sits at her workstation. Sips coffee.
Shuffles the stacks of paperwork.
Murmurs into her headset.

JENNY
Carrie, hi. How are you?

CARRIE
I’ve been better.

JENNY
W-what’s wrong?

CARRIE
The cops want me.
I was framed for Flender’s murder.
They matched the bullets to my gun,
which someone STOLE.
I’m in deep shit.

JENNY
(small voice)
You’re -- kidding.

ANGRY MALE VOICE (O.C.)
JENNY. Where’s the Crabb deal?
I can’t find the FUCKING CRABB DEAL!

JENNY
Modi, hold on I’m on the phone --
(to Carrie)
Just sit tight.
When I get home
I’ll fix us some dinner,
and we can plan our strategy.

CARRIE
We? OUR strategy?

JENNY
Well, yeah --
I just thought -- since --

CARRIE
Listen, baby --
I’d love your help,
but do you realize
how dangerous this is?
I can’t get you mixed up in this,
this is serious shit, and I --

Carrie gasps. Sucks in air.

JENNY
Shhhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.
Where are you now?

MODI (O.C.)
JENNY!

CARRIE
It’s best if you don’t know.
I’ll call you later when I get settled.
Just don’t tell anyone anything,
you don’t know anything --

JENNY
Okay, I understand,
I gotta go, I’m --
(whispers)
Getting yelled at.

She punches a button.
Heart beating a mile a minute.

MODI
appears. Fists clenched.
Face beet red.

MODI
(hisses)
Get me that fucking file,
stupid BITCH.

PUSH IN ON Jenny.
Frightened to death.

JENNY
S-sure thing, r-right away --

INT. POLICE HEADQUARTERS - LIPSHITZ’S OFFICE - AT THAT MOMENT
Larry leans forward in his chair.
Stares at Bernie and Aya.
Standing before him.
In trouble. Baleful.

LIPSHITZ
It was a simple task.
Just KEEP HER ON THE FUCKING PHONE --
long enough to GET A TRACE.

BERNIE
She was a cop, Larry.
She knows the drill.
Despite being inebriated.
(beat)
She was a good cop once, you know --

AYA
Captain, may I have a word?

LIPSHITZ
You can have ten, twenty, a hundred.
But not here, not now.
We’ve got work to do,
and I don’t have time for your
touchy-feely psych-101 mumbo-jumbo.

AYA
But sir --

LIPSHITZ
Zip it, or you’ll be back
on the kibutz so fast
your dreidel will spin like a top.
(beat)
Wait a minute --
(inhales)
You two are going to
prowl the beach joints.
That’s her thing, right, Bernie?

BERNIE
Yeah.
She used to say she got a nosebleed
if she went east of Lincoln.
There’s a few hotels
and flea-bag joints
we can check out.
Not to mention the gin joints
on the boardwalk.

LIPSHITZ
Then hop to it.
And find her, fast,
because this is quickly becoming
a major embarrassment to the department.

DISSOLVE TO:

A SMALL TELEVISION SET
in a tiny motel room.
Seen from the next room.

COCKY, SMILING ANCHOR (V.O.)
-- linking the murder weapon
to a Ms. Carrie Love, 36,
former Santa Monica homicide detective,
now a private investigator --

CARRIE’S FACE
fills the screen. Damn,
she looks angry. But cute.

COCKY, SMILING ANCHOR (V.O.)
If you see this woman,
call your local precinct immediately.
And stay away.
This is one dangerous lady.

Not In My House

Happy Tuesday, crime-stoppers. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 27 of of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, dead TV movie producer Roland Yavo's transgendered daughter Nikki comes home to get her stuff, and runs afoul of her mother ...


EXT. LAGUNA BEACH - COAST - NIGHT
A row of LUX MANSIONS at the top
of the cliffs overlooking the ocean.
The exclusive, expensive seats.

EXT./INT. - NIKKI’S JAGUAR - MOVING - AT THAT MOMENT
The swingin’, Farfisa-loungey sounds of Nicola Conte’s
BOSSA PER DUE rock the car stereo, while --

Nikki’s wheels ROAR down the coastal drive.

NIKKI
(on her cell)
Just put it on my tab.
(beat)
You think you’re
the only dealer in Laguna?
(beat)
Think of all the business
I’ve brought you --
(beat)
Trade? I wouldn’t stoop to --
(beat)
That much?
(beat)
The Boom-Boom Room. At midnight.

She hangs up with disgust.

NIKKI
The things a gal has to do
for recreational drugs --

INT. YAVO ESTATE - KITCHEN - AT THAT MOMENT
Anne Margaret’s LET ME ENTERTAIN YOU over --

A huge, gleaming expanse of
restaurant-quality culinary perfection.
All chrome, tile and glass.

GLORIA YAVO (40’s) is perched on a stool.
Gimlet-eyed. Once a beauty, now watered down.
Unlike her cocktail.

Clothing, hair, makeup, perfect.
If only someone was home.

She CLACK-CLACKS on a laptop computer.
Puffs on a cigarette.

GLORIA
It’s mine, Goddammit.

ON THE SCREEN
we see an Ebay auction.
Letters read YOU’VE BEEN OUTBID.

GLORIA
furiously PUNCHES in a number.

GLORIA
Five hundred DOLLARS.
You happy now?

NIKKI
walks in.

NIKKI
Hello, Mother.

GLORIA
(looks up)
Nicholas.
WHY are you DRESSED like that?
You look RIDICULOUS.

NIKKI
(STOMPS her foot)
I told you, my name is NIKKI.
And I’m beautiful.

GLORIA
(eyes on the monitor)
Not in my house, you aren’t.

NIKKI
I’m going upstairs
and get some of my things.
I’m moving out.

GLORIA
Bullshit.
Your father just called.
You’ve been kicked out.
I’m not supposed to let you in.

Nikki goes to the counter,
rummages through Gloria’s purse.

NIKKI
Don’t worry,
I’m not going to stay.

GLORIA
You better hurry.
He’s on his way home --
and if he finds you here,
dressed like that --

NIKKI
(finds cash, counts it)
What? He’ll HIT me?

GLORIA
(looks up)
What THE FUCK
do you think you’re doing?
Put THAT BACK.

NIKKI
Shut the fuck up, you old hag.
Have another drink. On me.
(squints)
That’s quite a shiner.
I’d put a little more concealer on that.
Wouldn’t want the neighbors to find out.

GLORIA
Wait a minute, that’s MY dress.
Take it off, RIGHT NOW --
you, you -- FREAK.

Nikki goes to the doorway
into the living room.

NIKKI
Like it would still fit you.

Gloria HURLS her glass at Nikki.
It hits the wall -- CRASH.

GLORIA
Fucking FAGGOT!

NIKKI
(smiles)
Now look what you did.
That was a perfectly good cocktail.

Gloria LEAPS off her stool.
RACES over to Nikki.

Starts BEATING her with her fists.
Nikki GRABS her wrists.

NIKKI
Back off.
Before I do something I regret.

GLORIA
I HAVE no son.
You are DEAD to me.

Nikki PUSHES her.
Gloria LURCHES back.

TRIPS on the rug.
HITS the floor with a CRACK.

GLORIA
You can’t DO that!
I’m YOUR MOTHER.

Nikki goes to the staircase.
Stops. Turns.

NIKKI
Watch me.

Once An Outlaw

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Monday. Having a hard time getting back into the grind? Then why not to take a trip to the dark side, where your most violent fantasies become sins of the flesh, right here, where the hardboiled action is non-stop, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling

In Chapter 26 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, private eye Carrie Love hides out at her favorite dive bar to drink away her sorrows ... and then gets a phone call from homicide detective Bernie Keko, who has some shocking news ...


INT. DIVE BAR - MORNING
Paul Anka’s shaken-not-stirred cover of
BLACKHOLE SUN coos on the jukebox.

Behind the bar, Axel cleans a glass.

Carrie sits on a stool with a beer and a shot.
Looks like death warmed over.
Brittle. Lost. Haunted.

AXEL
So I guess you’re a regular now.

CARRIE
More like an 'irregular.'

AXEL
So you have the day off
from the detective thing?

CARRIE
Hey. Like the sign says,
‘get the day started right.’

AXEL
I might look like an asshole shit-kicker,
but I’m a good listener.
At least my girlfriend says so --
(beat)
Wanna tell me about it?

Carrie drinks the amber liquid.
SLAMS the shot glass down.

CARRIE
Keep ‘em coming.

AXEL
(pours)
I didn’t mean to pry.
You just look like you
could use a friend.

She DOWNS it.
CRACKS the glass on the bar.
Axel pours.

CARRIE
(sips her beer)
Well, let’s see.
First, my girlfriend left the country
without saying goodbye,
then a one-night stand hired me
to find out who killed her husband,
so I just HAD to fuck her receptionist --
and then, OH YEAH,
my fucking HOUSE BURNED DOWN,
and I LOST EVERYTHING,
so I BEAT THE SHIT outta
the guy who did it,
and ALMOST KILLED him.
(DOWNS the shot)
Ahhhhh. Get the day started right.
(burps)
Oh, yeah -- jail was nice, too.

AXEL
That’s some fucked-up shit.
I’m sorry.
(beat)
Fuck.

She points at the shot glass.
Smiles, evil.

AXEL
Maybe you should slow it down a bit.
You have any breakfast yet?
(off her silence)
How ‘bout I fix you a cheeseburger?
Get somethin’ in yer belly.
CARRIE
(a whisper)
That would be -- really nice of you.

Axel nods. Shuffles into the back.
Carrie crumples. About to lose it.

Her cell RINGS.
She fishes it out. Listens.

CARRIE
Hello?

INTERCUT WITH:

INT./EXT - UNMARKED CAR - MOVING - CONTINUOUS
Aya drives. Bernie speaks on the car phone. White-faced.

BERNIE
Carrie?

CARRIE
Bernie. How’s tricks?
Oh, that’s right, tricks are for chicks.

BERNIE
Not so good, Carrie.
(beat)
The ballistics report shows
your gun killed Flender.

CARRIE
You mean the Magnum?
(mumbles, to herself)
So it didn’t just disappear.
I knew someone fucking took it.

BERNIE
The revolving door on your bedroom
won’t work as an alibi, Carrie.
(ominous)
We have a big problem.

CARRIE
We always had a problem, Bernie.
Except the sex was so fucking good --

BERNIE
We can do this one of two ways.
You can turn yourself in, now --
and I’ll get the best fucking deal
I can for you, I promise.

CARRIE
And the second way?

BERNIE
You don’t want that.
It’s not pretty.

CARRIE
As Steve Martin said,
Comedy isn’t pretty.
And you’re forgetting the third way.

BERNIE
Carrie --

CARRIE
It’s called --
(realizes)
Eat shit and DIE, motherfucker.

She CLICKS the phone shut.
Bernie hangs up. Dials another number.

BERNIE
You get the location?
(beat)
Shit.

AYA
I told you.
You should have let me talk to her.
Now we don’t know where she is.

BERNIE
Shut THE FUCK up.
That’s my EX-WIFE,
who’s now a fugitive from the law.

AYA
You still have feelings for her.

PUSH IN ON Bernie. In denial.

BERNIE
Shut the fuck up and drive.

IN THE BAR
Carrie wolfs down the greasy burger.
Axel watches, proud.

AXEL
The secret is what I put in the meat.
Some pepper, ground onion --
and Tabasco sauce.

CARRIE
If I wasn’t on the lam,
I’d fuck your brains out.

AXEL
On -- the lam?

CARRIE
I’ve been fingered.
Someone framed me for murder.
So now I have to go underground.
(realizes)
Shit. What do I do with my car --

AXEL
That’s a tough break.
(thinks)
Hey. I live right down the block.
And I have an empty garage.
I keep my hog in the living room
where it’s warm.

CARRIE
You’d -- do that for me?

AXEL
Did five years in Ossining.
Gang fight with another cycle club.
Ruled justifiable homicide,
but I had a kilo of smack in the saddle bag.
Left the club after I got sprung.
Too old for that shit anymore.

He pours two shots.
They lift them in a toast.

CARRIE
Once an outlaw, always an outlaw.

AXEL
Something like that --

And they DOWN THEM.

You Are What You Eat

Happy Friday, crime-stoppers. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 25 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, the shit hits the fan when the cops run a ballistic test on the gun that killed TV movie producer Roland Yavo, and the evidence points right in the direction of ... a certain private eye we know and love ...


INT. SANTA MONICA POLICE HEADQUARTERS - DAY
Bernie and Aya sit at their desks.
Facing each other.

Aya is eating a vegetarian wrap.
Sips from a bottle of water.

Bernie, a cheeseburger and fries.
And a super-sized coke.

AYA
(looks at his food)
They say you
are what you eat --

BERNIE
Then what are you,
a vegetable?
That’s funny,
you can move.

AYA
THIS is healthy --
(points)
THAT is dead animal flesh,
served with sugar
and salt and grease.

Bernie takes a big bite.
Smiles wolfishly.

BERNIE
I know.
And it’s so fucking GOOD.
GRRRRRR.

MALE VOICE (O.C.)
I’m glad to see
you two are playing nicely.

In walks Lipshitz.
Scratching his belly.

LIPSHITZ
What’s the scoop?
Did you talk
to Flender’s widow?

BERNIE
Yeah.
Cold fish, that one.
Said she’d already
given her statement.

LIPSHITZ
Do you think the
murders are connected?

BERNIE
I’m not sure. Maybe.

AYA
Definitely not.

Bernie and Lipshitz
exchange glances.

LIPSHITZ
(to Bernie)
You have anything new?

BERNIE
Thought you’d never ask.
We’ve placed Carrie Love
at the scene of Yavo’s murder
at the time of death.

LIPSHITZ
But do you really think --

BERNIE
I don’t know what to think.
Maybe, if she was on a tear --

AYA
You’re being ridiculous.
There’s no way
Carrie Love killed Yavo.
It doesn’t make any sense.

BERNIE
Murder NEVER makes sense, doll.
(to Lipshitz)
There’s some connection though --
she’s hired by one guy’s wife
to find him, and then is
seen where the other guy gets it.
Too big of a coincidence.

AYA
She’s a DETECTIVE.
She was following LEADS.

RASPY MALE VOICE (O.C.)
With a rather exotic
form of ammunition,
it would appear.

Muller appears.
Holding a ballistics report.
He reads --

MULLER
Flender was shot with
45-caliber dum-dum
hollow points --

He smiles. Preening.
In the spotlight.

LIPSHITZ
Come on, Muller --
out with it.

MULLER
Fired from a gun
registered to --

Muller looks up
from the report.
Smiles grimly.

LIPSHITZ
MULLER.

MULLER
Ms. -- Carrie Love.

BERNIE
Shit.

LIPSHITZ
Fuck.

AYA
No.

They exchange glances.
Realizing the implications.

LIPSHITZ
Guess you're gonna
have to bring her in.

BERNIE
Let me call her first.
I know how to handle her.

AYA
Oh, yeah.
That's obvious.
(beat)
Get divorced much?

What Doesn't Kill You

Happy Thursday, crime slicksters. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 24 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, homicide dicks Bernie Keko and Aya Meir interview greiving widow Gay Flender at her late husband's production company. Meanwhile, private eye Carrie Love warns new flame Jenny Lane about the 'impending darkness' about to fall ...


INT. YAVO/FLENDER FILMS - FLENDER’S OFFICE - MORNING
Fleming sits behind Harvey’s big desk. Feet up.

On the phone. Listening.
Twirling the cord with his finger.

FLEMING
I understand, Jackie.
But we have one show in prep,
one in principal, and two in post.
Somebody has to steer the ship,
and since I’ve been first mate
for over ten years --

FEMALE VOICE (O.C.)
Love the nautical references.

GAY FLENDER
stands in the doorway.
Hands on hips. Livid.

GAY
Now get THE FUCK
out of my husband’s office.

FLEMING
(into the phone)
Gotta go.
(SLAMS it down)
Gay. How are you?

GAY
I’ll be fine when you
GET THE FUCK out of here.

FLEMING
(stands)
I’m sorry, I thought I should --

GAY
You thought? You THOUGHT?
That’s the problem right there.
You tried to THINK.
Now go back to your work station
and answer the fucking phones.

FLEMING
(as he leaves, dejected)
Okay, Mrs. -- uh, Gay.

GAY
And get me a Perrier
while you’re at it. Lime.
In a cup. With a fuckload of ice.

And then get Variety on the phone.
I’ve gotta statement to make.

Modi walks in. Looks jittery. Spooked.

MODI
Gay. What are you doing here?
In -- Harvey’s office?

GAY
It’s my office now.
(low)
Yavo was killed last night,
shot in the head.

MODI
Yavo’s -- dead?

GAY
(nods)
Someone has to -- steer the ship.

MODI
Where? When?
We should account for where we were.

GAY
(sharp whisper)
Shhh. Not here.

A voice BLEATS on the desktop intercom.

JENNY (O.C.)
Gay? There are a couple of --
detectives here to see you.

GAY
(to herself)
Shit.
(into the intercom)
Bring them on back, Jenny -- thanks.

Gay and Modi exchange looks.

INT. HARVEY FLENDER’S OFFICE - AT THAT MOMENT
Bernie and Aya stand in the doorway.
Gay swivels in the large, leather desk chair.
Sips Perrier.

Modi perches on the couch.
Bright, scary-beaming face.
Sips his coffee.

GAY
I’ve already been through this
twice with a couple different officers.
Is this really necessary?

BERNIE
Just a few routine questions, ma’am.

GAY
Detective, my husband was MURDERED,
and I think you should be out there
trying to find his KILLER --
instead of badgering me with the
same questions over and over again.

Bernie nods slowly.
Fishes out his card.
Hands it to Gay.

BERNIE
Call me if you remember anything else.

Aya pulls out her card.
Slides it onto the desk.

AYA
Call me if you need someone to talk to.
I have a psychology degree.
I’ve done a lot of grief counseling.

BERNIE
And don’t leave town.

GAY
Leave town?
I have a funeral to plan.
A eulogy to write, a -- a --

She breaks down. Starts crying.

INT. JENNY’S APARTMENT - AT THAT MOMENT
Jenny stands at the front door.
Shrugs into her jacket.

Smiles wanly at Carrie,
looking out the windows, back to us.

JENNY
Just make yourself at home.
I’m sorry, but I have to go to work.
Modi, my boss -- can be --

CARRIE
An asshole. So you said.

JENNY
Everything’s gonna be okay.
You can stay as long as you like.
Help yourself to what’s in the fridge.
When I get back, I’ll fix us a nice dinner.

CARRIE
(turns)
Thanks. You’re really --

JENNY
It’s okay.

Jenny walks over to Carrie.
Leans up. Kisses her. They hug.

CARRIE
I can feel storm clouds gathering.
You better be careful.

JENNY
Careful? Careful of what?

CARRIE
They say what doesn’t kill you
makes you stronger.

JENNY
Kill who? Me?

PUSH IN ON Carrie.
Falling apart.

CARRIE
No. Me.

Place Your Bets

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Wednesday. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where your most violent fantasies become sins of the flesh, right here, where the hardboiled action is non-stop, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 23 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, homicide detective Bernie Keko and his partner Aya Meir scope out the hotel room crime scene where TV movie producer Roland Yavo bit the dust, and get into a bit of dust-up themselves ...


INT. HOTEL CALIFORNIA - ROOM - NIGHT
A swarm of CRIME SCENE TECHNICIANS
swarm around the room.

Taking pictures.
Dusting for prints.
Gathering evidence.

Bernie inspects Yavo’s body
lying on a gurney.

BERNIE
No way this was self-inflicted.
Not a suicide.

AYA
(points at chalk outline)
Look at the way he fell.
Body position is relaxed.
There was no struggle.
He knew the shooter.

An ANGRY CORONER'S OFFICE TECH
starts to zip up the body bag.

ANGRY CORONER TECH
Enough show and tell.
We gotta get him downtown.
The DA is on fire
about this one.

BERNIE
What kind of prints
you get, Muller?

MULLER
(looks up from his work)
Oh, only a couple hundred.
Love these hotel room jobs.
Major overtime.

BERNIE
Let me know if you find
any belonging to Carrie Love.

AYA
Carrie Love?
Wasn’t she that homicide dick
that was thrown off the force --

BERNIE
ZIP it, she was my PARTNER.

AYA
At work or at home?

BERNIE
Uh -- both.

AYA
Well, that sure as hell
explains a lot.

BERNIE
And what the fuck
is THAT supposed to mean?

AYA
You not only
shit where you eat,
you roll around in it.

Bernie GRABS her shoulders.
SHAKES her.

BERNIE
Shut UP!

AYA
(SLAPS his hands away)
Get your HANDS OFF ME.

Aya GRABS him.
SPINS him around.
CRACKS him in a CHOKE-HOLD.

AYA
If you ever
lay your hands on me again,
It’s the end of your
family name, GOT IT?

She GRABS his crotch.
SQUEEZES, HARD --

BERNIE
OW!

And releases him
with a flourish.

BERNIE
Bitch.

AYA
Asshole.

She STORMS OUT.
Door SLAMS.

The room breaks into APPLAUSE.

MULLER
Nice one, Keko.
(to the room)
Gentlemen, place your bets.
Methinks they’ll be screwing in --

ANGRY CORONER TECH
I give it two weeks.

EAGER EVIDENCE DETECTIVE
One week. If that.

PUSH IN ON Muller.
Holding up a bill.

MULLER
Twenty bucks says tonight.

My Lips Are Sealed

Hello Ruby Tuesday, crime slicksters -- will they hang a noose on you? It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 22 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, private eye Carrie Love and production assistant Jenny Lane wake up 'the next morning,' and then 'get busy.' Meanwhile, wannabe torture porn director Phillie Pfugg and his squeeze Chinette return home from 'a special dinner' at Sizzler, and discover a horrifying surprise ...


INT. JENNY’S APARTMENT - MORNING
Now that it’s light out, we can see
through the wall of windows
the Marina Peninsula’s Grand Canal.

It’s quite a sight.
Worth every penny of the outrageous rent.

Nestled in a large, airy studio
is a kitchenette.

Dinette. Work stationette.
Entertainment centerette.
Very cute.

Carrie leans against the kitchenette counter.
Rakish in Jenny’s white terry cloth robe.
Holding a mug of coffee.

CARRIE
Not as hung over
as I thought I’d be.
(beat)
Did we -- you know,
do anything, uh -- ?

JENNY
comes into frame.
With her coffee.


JENNY
No. You passed out.
I slept on the couch.

CARRIE
Good. Don’t want to
compromise -- the case.

Pause.

JENNY
We did -- kiss.

CARRIE
We did?
(off Jenny’s nod)
Did you like it?

JENNY
(quiet)
I did.

Carrie puts down her mug.
Puts her hands on Jenny’s hips.

CARRIE
Rule one.
Don’t mix business with pleasure.

JENNY
(strokes Carrie’s hair)
Uh-huh.

CARRIE
Rule two.
Don’t get involved on the rebound.

JENNY
(puts arms on Carrie’s shoulders)
Definitely not.

CARRIE
Rule three --
(beat)
What the fuck.

And she GRABS Jenny for dear life.
Jenny grabs right back.

They writhe against the kitchenette counter.
Swooning.

Carrie’s hand WHACKS her mug,
it hits the floor, CRASH.

Jenny’s foot CRACKS
against the garbage pail, BANG.

They kiss each other hungrily.
FALL to the floor, THUD.

Roll around on the carpet.
Hands everywhere at once.

Carrie’s head disappears
under Jenny’s skirt.

JENNY
Oh, my-god --

CLOSE ON
Jenny’s face.
In complete ecstasy.

It’s never been this good.
Years of bad sex a
nd faking orgasms melt away.

Something from deep inside
starts rising to the surface.

JENNY
Ahhh --
(rising)
Ahhh --
(gathering steam)
AHHH --
(louder)
AHHH --

And a high-pitched
animal YELP ERUPTS from her mouth.

A wall-shaking, window shattering
PRIMAL SCREAM of complete, utter abandon.

She WAILS and WAILS
like a she-banshee.

And just as quickly, it stops.
Carrie’s head reappears.

JENNY
That was -- incredible.

CARRIE
Your first orgasm?

JENNY
(shy)
Promise you won’t tell anyone?

CARRIE
My lips are sealed.
(beat)
So to speak.

EXT. LAUREL CANYON BLVD. - AT THAT MOMENT
A green, lumbering, old-school HUMMER
makes the trek up the hill.

Followed by Beemers. Porsches.
An Escalade limo.

INT. HUMMER - CONTINUOUS
Dean Martin rocks the subwoofers.
YOU BELONG TO ME, indeed.

Phillie’s behind the wheel.
Cleaning his teeth with a toothpick.

Chinette rides shotgun.
Holds a doggie bag.
Looks out the window. Pensive.

CHINETTE
I really like that place.
It’s a Sizzler,
but it’s in Beverly Hills,
so it’s nicer.

PHILLIE
I figured since you were upset,
we’d do something nice.
Splurge a little.

CHINETTE
You’re the sweetest guy, Phillie.

PHILLIE
You know, once the movie is done,
we’re gonna be fucking rolling in it.
And I’ve already mapped out
the story for the sequel --

He slows, turns,
goes down their driveway.

PHILLIE
Just one scene to go,
and we’ve got lightning in a bottle.

The car pulls into the garage.

INT. PFUGG RESIDENCE - BASEMENT - CONTINUOUS
Phillie stops at the top of the stairs.
Over his shoulder --

PHILLIE
Why don’t you crack open a box of wine,
I’ll bring up the dailies.

CHINETTE (O.C.)
‘Kay, honey --

He smiles.
Starts down the steps, then sees --

The joint is COMPLETELY TRASHED.
Camera SMASHED.

Videotape in RIBBONS,
like toilet paper in a tree.
A complete DISASTER.

PHILLIE
NOOOOOO!

He races down.
Surveys the damage.
Freaks out.

Sees a note taped to
the cracked plasma-screen.
He GRABS it. Reads --

Greetings from 'The Tour De Fuck.'

Double Feature

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Monday. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where your most violent fantasies become sins of the flesh, right here, where the hardboiled action is non-stop, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 21 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, homicide detectives Bernie Keko and Aya Meir get ready to check out the crime scene were producer Roland Yavo was killed. Meanwhile, private eye Carrie Love is distraught over losing her home, and Jenny Lane tries to comfort her.


INT. UNMARKED CAR - AT THAT MOMENT
Aya and Bernie sit in the car,
parked in front of a designer coffee joint.
Sipping java.

AYA
Isn’t it a little late
to be visiting the widow?

BERNIE
Element of surprise.
In case there’s any
monkey business,
catches ‘em off guard.

The police radio SQUEALS.

DISPATCHER (V.O.)
All units in the vicinity of
Ocean Avenue and Colorado.
We’ve got a 10-54 at the
Hotel California, 1670 Ocean Avenue.
See the night clerk.

BERNIE
Shit. That’s right nearby --
(grabs the transmitter)
This is unit three-twelve.
We’ve got it. On our way.
(to Aya)
Come on, let’s go.

Aya starts the car.
Pulls out of the parking lot.

INT./EXT. UNMARKED CAR - MOVING - CONTINUOUS

BERNIE
Take Wilshire all the way to the ocean.

DISPATCHER (V.O.)
Bernie, it’s me, Roger.

BERNIE
(into the transmitter)
Hey, Roger. Who’s the stiff?
Some tourist?

ROGER (V.O.)
You know that movie producer
that got snuffed this morning?

BERNIE
Yeah?

ROGER (V.O.)
It’s his partner.

BERNIE
Great. Now it’s a double feature.

INT. JENNY’S APARTMENT - A LITTLE WHILE LATER
Chet Baker’s THE THRILL IS GONE
plays softly on the stereo.

Carrie and Jenny sit on the couch.
More than a little looped.

CARRIE
There’s a couple of
decent places at the beach.
The Venice Motor Hotel, maybe.
Reasonably cheap, not too sleazy,
and right near --
(hiccups)
The Boardwalk.
(drains her glass, stands)
I’m gonna go freshen my --

A fire engine SIREN SCREAMS.
Carrie DROPS her glass.

It hits the hardwood floor. CRASH.
She races to the window.

CARRIE
NOOOOOOO!

JENNY
It’s okay, it’s okay!
It’s just a --

Carrie watches the fire truck go by.
Socked in the gut.

She WHIRLS AROUND.
Clenches her fists.
The shock balloon POPS.

CARRIE
NO, It’s NOT OKAY.
It’s NOT -- OKAY.
I lost EVERYTHING.
My music, my books, my movies,
my clothes, my -- SHOES.
Ohmigod, my SHOES!
My fucking SHOES.
(gasps)
I lost EVERYTHING, Jenny!
I lost EVERYTHING I had in THE WORLD.
(beat)
And now I --
(beat)
I have --
(quietly)
Nothing.

And she LOSES IT.

Wrenching, heart-ripping SOBS of pain.
Spilling, gushing out like
blood from a violent wound.

Jenny races over to Carrie.
Hugs her. Strokes her hair.

Carrie cries. And cries.
And cries --

INT. HOTEL CALIFORNIA - FRONT DESK - NIGHT
Bernie stands with Aya at the desk.
Bernie flips his badge at Grotesque Clerk.

Grotesque checks it out.
Scratches herself.

BERNIE
Detective Keko, homicide.
This is my partner, Aya Meir.

AYA
(nods)
When did you find the body?

GROTESQUE CLERK
About fifteen minutes ago.
The guy in the room below
called to complain about
blood leaking through the ceiling.
Poor guy’s on his honeymoon.
At first he thought he
broke his wife’s cherry.
But when she told him she
really wasn’t a virgin,
well, hello --

BERNIE
Did Yavo have any visitors,
anybody suspicious-looking?

GROTESQUE CLERK
Another detective, a woman.
Checked out the dead guy’s room,
then left in an hurry.
Drove a big, old, white car,
Cadillac, I think.
Didn’t say her name --

BERNIE
Tall, thin, long hair,
big boobs, smart mouth?

GROTESQUE CLERK
Yeah, that’s her.

AYA
You know this person?

BERNIE
Yeah. And now she’s
in a shit-load of trouble.
(to the clerk)
What’s the room number?

GROTESQUE CLERK
24. You can’t miss it.
Place is crawling with pig --
uh, cops.

Shot With His Own Gun

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Friday. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where your most violent fantasies become sins of the flesh, right here, where the hardboiled action is non-stop, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 20 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, private eye Carrie Love visits Roland Yavo's motel room, and discovers a horrifying surprise. Meanwhile, homicide detective Bernie Keko spars with his new partner, Aya Meir ...


EXT. HOTEL CALIFORNIA - CORRIDOR - NIGHT
Carrie creeps down the outdoor walkway
that runs the length of the place.

Reaches 24. Stops.
Puts her ear to the door.

Faint TV sounds trickle out.
Some old movie soundtrack.
Carrie KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCKS on the door.

CARRIE
Roland. Roland Yavo.
It’s Carrie Love --

She listens. Silence.

Pulls a pick from her pocket.
Works it in the lock.

A soft CLICK.
The door SWINGS OPEN.
She moves in.

INT. HOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS
A front room of a nice suite.
Cozy. Touristy-tacky. Nautical artwork.
A plasma-screen TV flashes over a fake fireplace.

Empty.
Carrie moves to the bathroom.
In the doorway, we see
a pair of bare feet on the floor.
In a large puddle of BLOOD.

CARRIE
(softly)
This is not good.

She goes in.
Yavo lies on the tiles.
Shot in the temple.

His Colt lies next to his right hand.

CARRIE
Clumsily staged suicide.
Amateur-hour. Strictly non-pro.

Carrie grabs a hand towel.
Wipes down the doorknob.
All the surfaces she touched.
Closes the door.

OUTSIDE IN THE CORRIDOR
she looks around. No one.
Wipes that knob, too. Hurries off.

EXT. HOTEL CALIFORNIA - PARKING LOT - MOMENTS LATER
Carrie slides into the Olds. GUNS the engine. HITS the gas.

JENNY
What’s wrong? You look spooked.

CARRIE
Yavo’s dead. Single gunshot,
right in the kisser.

JENNY
What?

CARRIE
Shot with his own gun.
Old Raymond Chandler device.
Nice. When it works.
JENNY
Did you -- call the police?

CARRIE
Not yet.
I’ve finally been dealt a good hand.
And I’d like to play it out.

EXT. MUNICIPAL BUILDING - PARKING LOT - AT THAT MOMENT
Aya sits behind the wheel of a nondescript unmarked sedan.
Bernie comes up to her window.

BERNIE
Slide over. I’m driving.

AYA
No. I’m driving.

BERNIE
I ALWAYS drive.

AYA
Hurry up, get in.
We have a grieving widow to interview,
and we don’t have time for your misogyny.

Bernie does a slow burn.
Walks around the car. Gets in.
Aya puts the car in gear, and TEARS off.

INT./EXT. UNMARKED CAR - MOVING - CONTINUOUS

AYA
In Israel, everyone serves in the Army.
I’ve killed a man with my bare hands.

BERNIE
Palestinian soldier?

AYA
No, my godfather.
He tried to rape me.

BERNIE
Shit. Wow.
(beat)
I’m sorry.

AYA
Don’t be. He was a slave trafficker.
He would have kicked the can sooner or later.

BERNIE
It’s 'kicked the bucket.'
Kick the can is a kid’s game.

Bernie checks her out.
This might not be so bad after all.

BERNIE
So, I guess you -- played basketball?

AYA
No. But I bet you play
a mean game of miniature golf --

INT. JENNY’S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT
Jenny and Carrie walk down a dimly lit corridor.

JENNY
I’ve been trying to get the landlord
to fix the light.

They get to her door.

CARRIE
One quick drink for the road.
I gotta find a place to crash tonight.

Jenny puts her key in,
rattles the lock. Flustered.

JENNY
The lock -- sticks.

INT. JENNY’S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Cute. Cozy.
Homey, like a senior-year dorm room.
Plants. Stuffed bookcases.
An Italian LA FEMME NIKITA poster.

CARRIE
La Femme Nikita, great flick.

JENNY
I LOVE Luc Besson.

CARRIE
Have you seen Leon?
I mean, thirteen-year old
Natalie Portman? Hello.

JENNY
You mean The Professional?

CARRIE
That’s the Hollywood title.
The original title was Leon.
And in the original script, they make love.
(meaningfully)
Raising the stakes --

Pause.

JENNY
So -- what do you want?
I’ve got beer, wine, scotch --

CARRIE
Scotch. Make it a triple.
(off Jenny’s look)
My version of one drink --

The Fly In The Ointment

Happy Thursday, crime slicksters. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 19 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, homicide detective Bernie Keko is assigned a new female partner, Israeli minx Aya Meir, and he's NOT happy about it. Meanwhile, private eye Carrie Love arrives at the Hotel California to grill TV-movie producer Roland Yavo ...


INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN’S OFFICE - NIGHT
A small, cramped, stuffy office.
Plaques, citations, photos of cops line the walls.

A small fan pushes around the stale air.
Tiny transistor radio plays Coltrane.

Captain LARRY LIPSHITZ (50’s)
sits behind his desk,
unlit cigar in his mouth.

A bit flabby, but still solid.
Right now his eyes are burning.
He POUNDS the desk with a fist. Spits --

LIPSHITZ
You went on a FUCKING CALL with no BACK-UP.
I should fucking SUSPEND you.

Bernie Keko sits across from
Lipshitz in a ratty chair.

BERNIE
Look, Elroy disappeared.
That’s not my fault.
He went off on another bender -
-
LIPSHITZ
Then you CALL for fucking BACK-UP.
What THE FUCK were you thinking?

BERNIE
The address was --
next door to Carrie’s place.

LIPSHITZ
What, you still carrying a torch
for that nutty broad?

BERNIE
No, I was --
alright, I panicked, okay?
When I heard the address,
I took the call.
I was right nearby.

Lipshitz stares at Bernie. Scowls.

LIPSHITZ
If you weren’t the best
homicide detective we have --
(flicks on the intercom)
Send her in, McBain.
(to Bernie)
Gotta little surprise for you.

In walks AYA MEIR (30),
Israeli plainclothes detective
deluxe in sharkskin.

Six-feet of gleaming, curvy muscle.
Long, thick black hair.
Dark eyes glint like cold steel.

Helen of Tel Aviv.

LIPSHITZ
Bernie, I’d like you to meet
your new partner, Aya Meir.

BERNIE
(chuckles)
Any relation to Golda?

AYA
(curt)
My grandmother.
Pleased to meet you, detective Keko.

She puts out a hand to shake.
Bernie refuses. Folds his arms.

BERNIE
(to Lipshitz)
I’m not working with another broad.

LIPSHITZ
Yes, you are. And that’s an ORDER.

Bernie gives Aya the once-over.

BERNIE
Alright.
(beat)
Godammit.

PUSH IN ON Aya’s face.
Slightest flicker of a smile.

AYA
Gee. Thanks for
making a gal feel welcome.

EXT. HOTEL CALIFORNIA - NIGHT
The double-shot heartbreak swing
of Bryan Setzer’s
SINCE I DON’T HAVE YOU over --

The parking lot.
Splashy, flashy cars abound.

Carrie maneuvers the whale into a space.
The fly in the ointment.

INT. CARRIE’S CAR - CONTINUOUS
Carrie finishes an In-N’-Out burger.
Jenny munches on fries.

CARRIE
Just wait here.
I’ll be right back.

JENNY
Okay. Be careful --

Carrie gets out.
Leans into the window.

CARRIE
Thanks for hanging out with me.
It’s weird. It feels like
I’ve known you a long time.

JENNY
Is that -- good?

CARRIE
You tell me.

INT. HOTEL CALIFORNIA - FRONT DESK - NIGHT
Carrie stands at the counter. No one.
She sees a bronze bell.

BANG-BANG-BANGS it --
BRING, BRING, BRING.

FEMALE VOICE (O.C.)
Hold on, I’m coming, I’m coming!

A FAT, GROTESQUE WOMAN
emerges from the back room. Repulsive.
Layers of fat ooze out
from under her belly top.
Her three chins.

Greasy grey hair in bangs,
clipped up on the sides
for that ‘teenage look.’

Her stained T-shirt reads
'Livin’ La Vida Loca.'

CARRIE
(pulls out a badge)
Homicide, fourth Precinct.
I’m looking for a Roland Yavo.
He’s staying here.
Or so I’m told.

GROTESQUE CLERK
Haven’t had the law around in a while.
(eyes flickering)
What he do?

CARRIE
Nothing.
I just want to talk to him.

She pulls out a ten spot.
Slides it over.

GROTESQUE CLERK
(pockets it)
He’s in 24. Second floor --

Hotel California

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Wednesday. Or, as some people like to say, 'hump day.' But then, since I don't work a 9-to-5 day job, who gives a shit.

Enough fucking around. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where your most violent fantasies become sins of the flesh, right here, where the hardboiled action is non-stop, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 18 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, private eye Carrie Love tries to pick up the pieces after her home burned down. Meanwhile, TV-movie producer Roland Yavo, upset that his son 'Nikki' appeared in a tranny porn, officially disowns her ...


EXT. MUNICIPAL BUILDING - PARKING LOT - NIGHT
Landon and Jenny sit in Carrie’s Olds.
Landon, behind the wheel.

Jenny, in the back seat.
Shivering in short sleeves.

Japan’s brittle, decayed cover of
The Velvet Underground’s
ALL TOMORROW’S PARTIES
softly plays on the car stereo.

Carrie comes up to the passenger side.
Dazed. Lost.

CARRIE
(softly)
Landon.

LANDON
Carrie. Are you okay?

CARRIE
I’ll live.
(sees Jenny)
You came, too?

JENNY
(blushes)
I -- don’t have a ride.
(shy)
And I wanted to see if you were okay.

CARRIE
Thanks, guys --

She walks around the car.
Gets in beside Landon. Stares.

LANDON
Let’s go get you cleaned up.

CARRIE
(fighting tears)
That would be -- nice.

LANDON
(looks at her watch)
We’ve got just enough time
before I have to leave for the airport.

CARRIE
You’re -- leaving, too?

LANDON
Didn’t I tell you?
I got a part in the new Scorcese flick.
(big smile)
‘Sleazy B-movie actress No. 2.’

PUSH IN ON Carrie. Weak smile.

CARRIE
Glad to see you weren’t -- typecast.

EXT. OCEAN AVENUE - AT THAT MOMENT
The purple, swinging acid jazz of
Groove Nation’s GET THIS
percolates and bubbles over --

A riot of red, orange and yellow
smears the sky above crashing waves.
Wind WHIPS through the fifty-foot palms.

A sleek, black Lexus coupe
ROARS down the coastal boulevard.

INT. YAVO’S LEXUS - MOVING - CONTINUOUS
Yavo DOWNSHIFTS at a yellow light
at the Malibu Canyon pass.

Stops at the red.
Shouts into his hands-free cell.

YAVO
I got a call from your DIRECTOR.

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

INT./EXT. NIKKI’S JAGUAR - MOVING - CONTINUOUS
Nikki’s stuck in traffic on the 405.
Puffs fiercely on an ultra-long, thin cigarette.
Cell phone clamped to her ear.

NIKKI
My d-director?

YAVO
Yeah -- the sleazebag that shot
the tranny porno you STARRED in.

NIKKI
Listen, I can explain --
it’s a student film, it’s --

YAVO
Shut the FUCK up and LISTEN. T
he creep set up a MEETING
with me using YOU as bait,
and now he’s trying to BLACKMAIL me!

NIKKI
But, but --

YAVO
No BUTS -- except maybe YOURS.
This freakshow of yours has
crossed over into my BUSINESS.

THE LIGHT
changes to green.
Yavo STEPS ON IT.

YAVO
I’ve HAD IT with you.
You’re outta my house, outta my will,
and I’m NOT paying for college.
You’re ON YOUR OWN, Nancy-boy.

NIKKI
No, please -- let me EXPLAIN.

YAVO
I told you to SHUT THE FUCK UP.
You are DEAD to me.

He GROWLS. GRABS the cell off his ear.
FLINGS IT into the dashboard -- CRACK.

EXT. CARRIE’S CAR - MOVING - A LITTLE WHILE LATER
The ghostly blue twang of Chris Isaak’s TALK TO ME.

Carrie drives with the top down.
She’s cleaned up, wears Landon’s
biker chick threads. Looks haunted.
Beaten. Drained.

She take a swig from a pint bottle
of brown. Eyes burning.

Jenny sits on the passenger side.
Watching Carrie intently.

JENNY
I’ll keep an eye out for cops.

CARRIE
Good idea --
driving on a suspended license --

JENNY
Really? Maybe I should --
(beat)
Have a hit of that.

Carrie passes the bottle to her.
Smiles grimly.

Jenny takes a long pull.
Hands it back.

CARRIE
(takes a sip)
So where does Yavo shack up
when he’s in town?

JENNY
You want to see him now?
It’s kinda late.

CARRIE
(hands her the bottle)
I want to ask him a few questions.
Alone.

JENNY
(takes it, sips)
He’s at the Hotel California,
on the beach. It’s nice. Quaint.
I stayed there once.
(hands the bottle back)
You know -- it’s right near Chez Ray.
Across the street, down about a block.

Carrie HITS the brakes.
The tires SCREECH.

She TURNS THE WHEEL.
The whale ROCKS, SKIDS --
And FISHTAILS into a U-turn.

JENNY
Wow.

CARRIE
Learned that move from Mannix.

JENNY
So where are we going?

CARRIE
The Hotel California.
To drill Yavo.

JENNY
And I’m -- coming along?

PUSH IN ON Carrie.
Drains the bottle. Tosses it.

CARRIE
I don’t feel like being alone --